


A Home at the End of the World

by desert_coffin



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: M/M, alternate season1&2, angsty, im a slut for josak, in a parallel universe..., wrote the smut before the actual fic can you tell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 08:13:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9539312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desert_coffin/pseuds/desert_coffin
Summary: It's been a long time coming, probably, but that doesn't mean it was easy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be regular josak smut but it kinda got away from me and here we are.
> 
> Jonas never actually dated Isabel in this one.

After the fact, Jonas will think he had known all along. It was nothing like in the movies, those grand moments of realization complete with epic music and romantic visuals. Instead it had been messy and he had stumbled along like a blind man, never quite facing the truth until he could no longer ignore it.

 

**[Then]**

* * * *

They're in a cabin lost in the middle of the woods and his head is resting on the lap of a beautiful girl. Sunbeams wash her in bright light and he watches it glint off her hair, sees the million little specks of gold trapped in the strands. Sometimes when he looks at Eva, his heart feels so full and swollen with pride and love because she’s perfect and she’s beautiful and she wants him too.

And then he looks at Isak, sitting alone and forlorn in the small armchair, and he has no one. But Jonas doesn't notice, swirling in the whirlpool that is _Eva, Eva, Eva_ . He's drunk with the smell of her, he wants to get up and shake Isak’s shoulders and ask him _Isak, have you ever been in love_. Instead he watches Isak stare at his feet and he can't begin to comprehend the distance between them.

Looking back, Jonas wants to feel bad, wishes he had felt the same and given Isak what he needed. But there and then he was lying down with Eva, and she was the one he wanted to be closest to.

* * * *

The first time they get high just the two of them he feels himself get a little hard and shifts on the couch, hoping it doesn't show. It happens sometimes, a side effect of the drugs and the strange feeling of weightlessness, and he looks at Isak, grinning.

“Elias gave us some good shit, uh?”

Isak’s answering smile is unsteady, his eyes drooping, gaze completely unfocused as he stares off into space. He always gets like this when they smoke, escaping far from reality and the mess at home plaguing his life, the kind of shit that makes him call Jonas at 8 PM on a school night with a wobble in his voice.

Jonas knows his part by now, doesn't make a fuss and grabs his weed instead, makes it to his house under 30 minutes to watch him get high as a kite. It's a well-rehearsed little act, no place for hiccups or improvisation.

So maybe, he thinks, finding Isak’s porn was the last minute edit that threw them off the script in the first place. Made him question everything he thought he knew about himself, made him look at things differently.

* * * *

When Isak's dad leaves he spends three days in Isak’s room, the two of them holed up in quiet comfort away from the world.

They get high and eat junk food and Isak cries intermittently while soap operas flicker in the background. During the day they sit on the bed side by side, their shoulders touching. Jonas can feel the warmth seeping through Isak’s shirt, a sharp contrast to the emptiness in his eyes. When Isak gets a call from his dad, Jonas watches him crumble in silent despair and all he can do is open his arms and lets Isak burrow against his shoulder.

At night, they sleep in the king-size bed in the room of Isak’s parents because Isak’s mom won’t leave the couch. Jonas lets Isak muffle his sobs in his chest while they’re lying awake and later feels him snuggle up to him in his sleep, Isak's body heat suddenly strangely unsettling. He hasn’t spent the night with a girl since he broke up with Eva, just two bodies tangled together during hours, and having Isak warm his side like this feels like a glitch in the fabric of the universe.

* * * *

Jonas watches Isak kiss Sara like he means it and wonders where he got this newfound confidence. Maybe Isak is not gay, he thinks, maybe he's bisexual, something else, _anything_. Maybe liking girls comes as naturally as liking boys and he's not forcing himself the way his search history suggests. Because Sara is pretty, and she looks even prettier cuddled against Isak’s chest, his arms wound up around her in a tender gesture. Jonas wants to believe Isak is being genuine, tries to let himself be blinded by the image Isak is desperately trying to project.

But Isak breaks up with Sara on a Tuesday and the school is buzzing with rumors. A few girls come up to him, asking coyly for confirmation and he gives it with a little smile. His mind is flashing with images of what he found on Isak’s computer, glimpses of toned, lanky bodies twisted together, tasting skin. The girls leave and he wants to catch up to them, say _you’re not what he wants,_ and he wonders what everybody would think if they knew.

* * * *

It’s been raining all week and the pavement is damp when he stumbles outside, Isak and Eva holding him upright with difficulty. There’s blood in his mouth and his nose is throbbing painfully but he still finds the strength to protest when Eva proposes to bring him to her house. _Can’t have you worrying about me like this anymore._

By unspoken agreement, they take the tram to Isak’s instead, where no one will care that they're coming home at midnight, shaken and bloody. Eva leaves them when it's her stop and then it's just the two of them, sitting bleary-eyed in the back of the car while the street lights go by. It's a fucking clichéd movie scene, Jonas thinks, weirdly romantic, like they're going to kiss while music plays in the background.

His head feels empty and he is not sure what the buzzing in his ears means, so he lets his head fall back on Isak’s shoulder instead, hand coming to rest in the space between them. And if Isak slips his hand over his and squeezes it, just once, they don't talk about it.

* * * *

Sometime over the last few months Isak has shot up, and he has to look up to meet his eyes when they’re together now.

School is out and they're with the boys in the courtyard laughing at some stupid joke. Isak’s gaze is soft and gentle when he smiles at him, and Jonas doesn't know if he can blame it on the way Isak has to tilt his head to look at him now. It makes Jonas feel a bit queazy, unsettled, because there are so many things different about Isak lately.

Despite their fight about it last week, he's spending time with Chris from the Penetrators after school and Jonas is desperately trying to ignore the twinge of jealousy every time his phone rings, _Chris_ flashing across the screen. Objectively, he knows it's all just part of the plan for getting back at the Yakuza, but the glint in Isak’s eye when he picks up the phone makes him think there's more to it.

He stares at his hands and listens to Isak agreeing to meet Chris the day after, something ugly twisting in his gut.

* * * *

It’s sunny for once and they’re heading home for the day, Isak walking ahead, eyes on the ground, hands tucked in the front pockets of his jeans.Jonas stares at his back, notices the tendons jutting slightly from his neck whenever he takes a step.

Isak has let his hair grow over the last few months and a few blond strands are curling over the nape of his neck. Jonas stares at the narrow shoulders swinging with each step and the soft tendrils of hair moving about in the breeze like it’s an out-of-body experience. He wants to think it’s the knowledge that Isak is gay that has influenced his feelings, made him pay attention to every small detail, made him _want_ things he would have never imagined.

Because there’s nothing rational about any of this. The way he stares at Isak’s mouth too long at times. The way he pictures his own hand carding gently through the blond curls, fingers brushing over the sensitive skin on Isak’s neck.

The way he imagines the shivers coursing through Isak’s body and his breathless voice asking for more.

* * * *

They're lying on his bed, Jonas staring idly at the TV while Isak is playing some game on his 3DS, lying on his stomach, propped up on his forearms.

Isak is wearing that fluffly white hoodie he's had since elementary school and he left the hood up, the fabric hanging down around his face and masking the bony edges of his jaw. Jonas can’t help staring up, letting his eyes linger on the high cheekbones and the soft angles of white skin, the pink tip of Isak's tongue peeking out of his pursed lips.

Jonas' gaze trails down distractedly to the drawstrings framing Isak's face and the collar of his partially unzipped hoodie. Isak’s black shirt is gaping around his neck, showing off the taut skin over his collarbone, and Jonas’ brain freezes on the thought like a scratched record skipping. He’s picturing faded red bruises contrasting beautifully against the white flesh, like all these times he pressed kisses to Eva’s pretty flushed skin.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Isak shift suddenly, and when he looks up Isak is staring right at him.

There's a moment of charged silence, louder than words. Jonas doesn't know what to do about the tension crackling in the space between them, licks his lips nervously and watches Isak’s gaze drop to follow the movement. Isak swallows thickly in the silence, Adam’s apple bobbing, breath quickening audibly. When he tilts his head, Jonas rolls up the bed so fast his vision sways for a second.

“I need to go,” he hears himself say around the lump in his throat.

Isak is still staring at him with wide eyes but recovers quickly, nodding a few times before turning back to his game console.

“See you at school, bro.” As if Jonas didn't just jump off his bed because he thought they were about to kiss.

Jonas all but runs out of the house, heart pounding the whole way home.

When he's finally in his room, he closes the door behind him and throws himself over his bed, head buried in the comforter. His mind is racing with thoughts of _what if_ so he rolls over and opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling because when he closes them, the only thing he sees is Isak’s face closing over his.

* * * *

It's a weird fucking week of school after that.

They hang out together, the four of them, and it's almost normal except for the fact that Isak is constantly avoiding his eyes. It makes Jonas a little desperate. He wishes Isak would pretend like nothing happened so he can in turn start to forget about this whole mess.

Instead, Isak’s behavior is a silent acknowledgment of this _thing_ between them, whatever the hell it is. The thought makes his breath hitch in his throat, like he’s standing on the edge of a precipice, terror and exhilaration blooming in his chest, blocking his lungs. Every glance he steals at Isak is enough to send tingles down his spine because Isak is never looking back but there's a curve to his lips, like a secret message.

Isak has been bold enough for the two of them and Jonas knows there are only so many ways this situation can end.

They spend three days tiptoeing around each other before he finally decides to send Isak a text. It’s short, casual enough but there’s a silent thrill shooting through his body when he presses _Send._

_‘Can I come over’_

It’s not a question, because the game is over; has been the moment Isak gave him that fucking look and put a hand over his hand.

And when he gets an _OK_ three minutes later, it’s all he can do not to run through the door.

* * * *

**[Now]**

Isak opens the door on the first ring and Jonas can’t stop the emotions swirling in his belly. Isak is wearing his damn hood up again like he knows the kind of effect it has on Jonas, and he stares at him for a second before throwing a _Come on up_ over his shoulder as he turns around to climb the stairs.

Jonas follows him, the tension in his muscles growing with each step he takes. When they reach Isak’s room he closes the door behind them, turning back to look at Isak, standing in the middle of the room.

“So,...” Isak starts, trailing off when Jonas takes a step toward him, then another, until there's less than a half meter’s distance between them. The gears in Jonas’ mind are going a hundred miles an hour. He stops in front of Isak, and hooks a finger into one of the belt hoops of his jean, tugging forward slightly; the gesture is casual enough but the intent is unmistakable.

Isak is staring at him wide-eyed. He takes a deep, shaky breath before stepping forward and closing the distance between them, their chests touching. There's a rush of blood to Jonas’ head, deafening roar in his ear, and then he’s pushing forward and nudging their mouths together.

The kiss is close-mouthed for about five seconds before Isak tilts his head to the right and opens his mouth. Jonas doesn't hesitate, undoes the zipper of Isak's hoodie before curling his hands around his best friend's hips. He squeezes, hard, as Isak sets his arms over his shoulders to deepen the kiss.

It makes it even better, even if Jonas’ neck is strained at an uncomfortable angle, because Isak’s mouth is hot and deliciously slack, his body warm against his. Their lips are sliding together, slow and deliberate, and Jonas feels the heat rising in his body, can't help the low moan in his throat when Isak shifts his mouth again. It's the signal he didn't know Isak was waiting for because the next thing he knows, Isak is gripping his skull and pushing his tongue into his open mouth like a hot preview of what's to come.

When they break apart for air, Jonas is still reeling, half hard and delirious; everything feels surreal, like a fever dream. But then he takes in Isak's flushed face, his lips red and wet, the lust swimming in his eyes, and before he knows it they're kissing again, noses scrunching together.

This kiss is urgent, desperate; there's no hesitation left when Isak pulls him forward by the shoulders a little too forcefully, their teeth clashing. Jonas has never kissed someone taller than him however, and it's becoming just this side of uncomfortable so he grips Isak's waist again and pushes his own body forward, trying to make them move back toward the bed. Isak mistakes the intent, gasps into the kiss and grinds back against him enthusiastically until Jonas has to break the kiss.

“Bed, let's go to bed,” Jonas pants out, a little embarrassed, but Isak just grabs his forearms and pulls him forward, walking backwards until his knees hit the mattress. They stop for another hot kiss before Isak lets himself fall on top of the blanket, Jonas crawling up after him to straddle his waist.

He sits back and looks down at Isak, all sprawled out on the bed with his hoodie wide open and his baggy black shirt. Isak has never looked better, deep flush accentuating the jut of his cheekbones, his eyes closed and his chest heaving.

“Jonas…” he draws out in a shaky voice, begging for something, _anything,_ and Jonas can't resist Isak when he's like that.

He bends down until he’s above Isak’s face and locks their gaze together as he licks slowly at the pink, parted lips, watching Isak’s eyes widen before they flutter shut. A few more licks before he pushes their mouths together for a deep kiss, tongue slipping easily inside Isak’s mouth when he moans. His hand is trailing down Isak’s chest over his clothes, the worn fabric soft under his fingers and it makes the kiss even sweeter.

Jonas pulls away after a moment and shuffles back, groin so hot he feels he could come right there in his jeans. Isak chases his mouth hotly before he cries out in frustration.

“What are you-”

His whine turns into a moan because Jonas has pushed the hem of his shirt up and is now licking at his navel, slipping the tip of his tongue inside the small dip. Isak arches his back in surprise and pleasure, making Jonas see stars. Watching Isak lose his head is the sexiest thing on earth; Jonas feels his dick throb whenever he looks back at Isak’s face.

Isak is squirming beneath him, trying to muffle his voice with a hand over his mouth but he can't silence the throaty groan he lets out when Jonas licks a trail up his sternum. Jonas is leaving hickeys in the pale flesh, imagines Isak tracing them later while he thinks back to what Jonas did to him.

He finally gets his mouth on the fine skin of Isak’s collarbone, licking at it until Isak is bucking their hips together helplessly. Isak’s neck is flushed pink and he gasps every time Jonas presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw, shivering when a warm tongue starts licking at the shell of his ear.

When Jonas cups a hand over Isak’s groin, the hard bulge under his fingers is enough to make him dizzy. The sight of Isak, all riled up because of what he's doing to him, makes him bold, makes him want to tease Isak until he’s a moaning, writhing mess, and he doesn't hesitate before pulling the boy’s sweatpants and boxers down to free his cock.

Isak gasps breathlessly and Jonas’ eyes snap back to his face, worried that he might be taking things too far, but Isak just nods frantically, panting, and Jonas feels a surge of adrenaline at what he’s about to do.

He scoots over slightly, gripping Isak’s thighs for support and lowers his face closer to the hard dick in front of him. There's a part of him that wants to make Isak beg and he starts off slow with light strokes of his tongue around the sensitive head, licking around the leaking slit before he takes the pink tip in his mouth and sucks, tongue swirling. Isak cries out in pleasure, hands flying out to grip Jonas’ shoulders hard and push him down but Jonas just squeezes his hips tighter, mouth still sucking at the head of his cock.

“Jonas- I can’t- I’m-” Isak pants out, heavy gasps wrenching his body, and Jonas decides to cut the teasing short before _he_ comes in his shorts like a fucking thirteen year old. Isak lasts about a minute, constant litany of moans and low groans spilling from his mouth, every sound driving Jonas closer to the edge. He doesn't try to swallow, wiping his chin on the comforter instead, and crawls back up to cover Isak's body with his own. When they start kissing again, it's the best feeling ever, and it turns heavenly when Isak pushes him onto his back.

“Wait, I want to…,” Isak starts hesitantly, shy little smile. His hands are certainly not hesitant as they undo Jonas’ button and zipper and push down into his boxers, and _fuck._ Jonas is so gone already, teetering on the edge since he got into the house, that he doesn't last long under Isak’s hot hands and mouth.

* * * *

Afterwards, they get under the covers and kiss lazily, until Isak nestles deeper into his shoulder and asks in a small voice, “Does this mean you're gay?”

The _too_ goes unsaid but Jonas hears it regardless; he ponders that for a moment.

“I like hooking up with girls,” he says truthfully, before turning toward Isak. “I also really liked hooking up with you.”

Isak is staring up at him, a mixture of emotions swimming into his clear green eyes. Jonas just pulls him closer and kisses his hair, smiling.

“Should we tell the boys?” he teases.

“Fuck off,” Isak scoffs, pushing him playfully.

But he doesn't say no.


End file.
